


Escape From The City And Follow The Sun

by The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Newt, Depression, Don't get those mixed up, Fluff and Angst, Glader slang mixed up with regular swears, Hurt/Comfort, I swear theres not only angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Maaaaaaaaaybe smut?, Mental Health Issues, Minho is still as beautiful as ever, Newt deserves the world, Newt has the flare and is expected to die, Past Suicide Attempt, Some Humor, The Flare used to be a thing but not everyone has is, The Gladers are BAMF, The Gladers are a gang, They wear leather jackets because why not?, Thomas and Teresa live together as close friends, Thomas falls in love with Newt :3, Thomas is bisexual, WCKD is a rival gang, WICKED is a pharmaceutical company, on the bright side, or at least for now, physical health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships/pseuds/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships
Summary: Newt took a step back, afraid to look into Thomas' eyes or else his resolve would crumble. His back hit the wall. "You can'tfixme, Tommy. No one can."Thomas stepped closer to him until their faces were only inches apart. Their breaths mingled together in the hot space between them. "I can at least try."...The Gladers are a group of leather-wearing, cigarette-smoking, prank-pulling high school kids, and they take in the new "Greenie", Thomas, under their wing. Thomas won't admit it to anyone but the only reason he wanted to be a Glader in the first place was Newton "Newt" Issacs, a pale, slender Glader who walks with a strange limp.Thomas wants to get closer to Newt, but Newt has an incurable disease called the Flare, and he's not expected to live past 25. Newt tries to push Thomas away in order not to be hurt, but the pull between them is magnetic. How do two boys fall in love despite all the demons that live inside their heads?The thing is, they don't.





	1. Welcome To Paradise, Greenies

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched The Death Cure in theaters and I have a lot of feelings that need to be expressed. Voila! This story was created. Happy Valentines Day! I did this instead of my project that's due tomorrow.

 

“May I please have your names?” The secretary at the front desk asked, barely sparing them glances.

The tall boy, whose dark hair was falling into his eyes while he looked down, begrudgingly answered, “Thomas.” He paused for a few seconds before coughing out a “Thomas Edison.”

The secretary looked up in surprise. Her blonde hair was severely pulled back in a bun and pencils were lodged in there like decorations. She, like every other teacher in the school, was about as plain as they came. She was soft and petite and a stark contrast to the two teenagers standing before her. “Like the scientist?”

“No, like the shucking bikini model.”

The secretary’s eyes cut towards Minho, who was sprawled on the uncomfortable couch in the office. Her lips pursed in a scowl and Minho returned the expression. He did not like the teachers at Greenwood and they shared his sentiments. That’s why it was almost laughable when Minho’s meek guidance counselor asked him if he wanted to be the new kids’ guide for the day. Minho said yes because he was partly curious about the new kids (it’s been almost an entire year since anyone new moved to Greenwood) and he also wanted to miss a few of his classes.

“Minho,” the secretary said tensely. “If you could please stay quiet until it's your turn to introduce yourself, that would be lovely.”

Minho mocked-saluted her. “Good that, ma’am. I’ve been meaning to take a nap anyway.”

The girl, who was standing next to the boy named after Thomas Edison, giggled nervously. Her head was lowered too, and the only thing Minho could see from his spot was her long, dark hair. The boy, ‘Thomas’, leaned into the girl and murmured something into her ear. She nodded.

The secretary turned her gaze back to the new students while Minho stretched languidly. He watched through lidded eyes as the woman introduced herself as Mrs. Mary and gave them their freshly printed out schedules. “Thomas and Teresa, right? You don’t need to worry about a thing, I already talked to your parents concerning your classes and extracurriculars.”

Minho appeared uninterested but he listened curiously.

“Although I am sorry to note that our pottery class is full, so you’ll have to talk to your guidance counselor about another elective class you can take,” Mrs. Mary said.

The girl, who Minho assumed was Teresa, sighed. “That’s fine. Did you talk to Mr. Edison about my AP courses?”

“You have too many AP classes,” Thomas muttered, although he was smiling a little. Were they dating? Minho wondered. Or, no. Maybe they were siblings? Close friends?

The secretary finished up with the two and gestured to Minho. He shot them a wink. “This is Minho, he might be in a few of your classes, Thomas. You’re both juniors. Minho here was gracious-” Minho snickered, but Mrs. Mary ignored him. “He was gracious enough to be your guides for the week as you two get settled into Greenwood High. Don't be afraid to ask him any questions, and I'm here as well. If-”

“Okay, ma’am,” Minho interrupted, lifting himself off the couch and swaggering towards the new kids. “I can take it from here.”

Mrs. Mary’s face reddened. “Minho, you-”

“Come on, Greenies, the fun only starts when you start moving your shuck feets.” Minho threw his hands around Thomas’s shoulders, surprising the taller boy. Up close, Thomas was a lot more handsome, Minho had to begrudgingly accept. His eyes were dark like the bark of a tree and his furrowed eyebrows made them seem intense. His dark hair fell over his pale forehead in a way that made Minho suspect he didn’t bother brushing it in the morning. Thomas was pretty fit too, like a track star. A small inkling of an idea blossomed in Minho’s mind, but he was distracted before it could formally bloom.

“What did you just call us?” Thomas asked. His voice was husky and deep and full of caution. Of course it was, it wasn’t every day someone was introduced to the definition of sexiness.

“Greenies,” Minho explained, smirking at the new kids. “It’s what we call new klunks who have the misfortune to come to this hellhole of a school.”

“Language,” Mrs. Mary exclaimed from behind the desk.

Minho laughed and wasn’t bothered when Thomas moved away from his touch. “Roger that, ma’am. Let’s go and get the Special Minho Tour Extravagant started before Mrs. Buzzkill gets more wrinkles on her forehead.”

 

* * *

They had gone through the science halls and the important places, such as the gym, the nurse’s office, and the best water fountains that didn’t squirt out dirty water. Minho explained every classroom and answered their questions patiently, which surprised the two. Minho knew they thought he was one of those troublemakers who made everything a joke-- which he was, to be completely honest-- but Minho never half-assed anything. If he was going to show the Greenies around, shuck it, he was going to be the best damn guide ever.

Minho checked his watch and looked back at Thomas and Teresa. Interesting enough, Thomas’s hand was on the small of Teresa’s back and he was whispering something to her. She was shaking her head, her eyes flickering to Minho’s when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“So,” Minho drawled, leaning against the wall. “Where are you ladies from?”

Thomas’s eyebrows raised, but the corner of his mouth lifted up a little.

“Denver,” Teresa answered, her voice small but steady. “Thomas’s father, um, transferred jobs and so we live here now.”

Minho whistled low. “Denver, huh? Welcome to Paradise City, Greenies. The worst town in the world.”

Thomas snorted. “Is it really that bad?”

“Am I God’s gift to women?” Minho asked in return. “Don’t answer that. Let’s just say we’re not known for our safe neighborhoods and clean water.”

“That does seem fairly bad,” Thomas commented.

Minho waved a flippant hand. “Bad isn't the word I would use. Everyone stopped caring about how ‘bad’ Paradise was after the third teenager was kidnapped by the city.”

The shocked expressions on the Greenies faces were almost hilarious. “That's terrible!” Teresa cried. “Isn't the city council doing anything about it?”

Minho snorted. “The city council is full of WICKED members. They’re the ones doing the kidnapping in the first place, all for the name of science.”

Teresa shook her head slowly. Her expression was hard to decipher. “I don't believe you.”

Minho shrugged. “Believe what you want to. That doesn't erase the fact that WICKED is full of klunk.”

Their group was quiet for a few seconds before Minho blurted out, “Are y’all Greenies siblings or what? You don't look alike.”

Teresa blinked in surprise. “Siblings? Us?” She let out a short laugh that reminded Minho of fairy bells. “No, we’re not related by blood. I just live with Thomas’ family. We’ve been together since we were kids.”

“So you're. . .dating?”

Teresa let out a squeal of laughter that thoroughly surprised Minho. Thomas’s face turned a bright shade of red. “I rather have you think of us as siblings,” he chuckled. “We’re best friends, but not like that .”

To the Greenies relief, the bell rang, ending any and all conversations.  Minho checked his watch. “Good news, Greenies, it's lunchtime.”

“Thank God,” Thomas sighed in relief. “I'm starving.”

“I hope it's better than our old school’s lunch,” Teresa grinned. “Their meatloaf almost turned me vegetarian.”

“You two are in luck,” Minho smirked. “Not only are our lunches top-notch, I can also introduce the two of you to my friends.”

“Friends?” Thomas echoed.

Minho draped an arm across Thomas’ shoulder, and this time the other boy didn't move away. “Yeah, my friends. It's time for you two to meet the Gladers.”  
 

* * *

 

The Greenwood cafeteria was like an airplane terminal-- unnecessarily crowded and full of people talking loudly on their devices. Students sat in their designated spots as if it was a high school movie. Minho pointed out all of the important cliques to Thomas and Teresa, who looked overwhelmed in the crowd. The "popular" kids, who Minho and his friend referred to as "Plastic Dolls", sat directly in the middle of the caf. They all had died blonde hair and fake smiles. They tried too hard to be perfect and had accounts on every social media available. Minho didn't like the Plastic Dolls much and the feeling was mutual. The next clique Minho pointed out was the band geeks, also known as the only musically talented group of students in the entire school. A few Gladers knew how to play musical instruments such as the piano or flute, but the band geeks made them sound like deaf four-year-olds. The goths and emos sat across from each other in the cafeteria, and there was a weird feud between the two cliques. Minho didn't know the details, but eyeliner wasn't the only thing being smudged if you knew what he was saying. The jocks also sat together, although calling them jocks was a stretch. A lot of kids did sports, which technically made them jocks. The "jocks" were mainly straight, white boys who liked to throw words such as "fantasy team" and "finesse" around. They were a different species altogether.

Minho explained all this and more to the Greenies as they weaved through the crowd, who gobbled up the information eagerly. Things must have been different in their old school. 

"Do you have a clique?" Thomas asked him.

"The Gladers are my clique."

"What exactly are Gladers?"

Minho smiled mysteriously and pointed at his leather jacket, which was worn at the edges from excessive use and had a small "M" threaded on the back. "This is a Glader."

"I don't understand-"

"Minho, you slinthead!" Someone called out from across the cafeteria. 

The Asian boy laughed. "That's them right there. Come one, Greenies." 

Minho lead the two to a table hidden in a corner near the vending machines. There was a crowd of boys surrounding it wearing the same type of jackets as Minho. Some were playing cards directly on the table while others typed on their cellphones. Someone-- probably Gally-- was blaring music, a soft rock song Minho didn't recognize, from speakers. All conversations hushed as Minho walked up to them. Thomas and Teresa startled besides him and stopped short of the actual table. It was clear they were unsure how to continue in the presence of the Gladers. 

"You slintheads wanna take a picture?" Minho asked sarcastically, pushing himself up on the table next to a freshman named Chuck. Chuck gladly moved over to give Minho room and looked at him in admiration. "It lasts longer."

Someone chuckled. "Nice to see you too, Minho. The rest of the Gladers and I were wondering where you were when you didn't show up for first period. We thought you skipped school."

Minho waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. I was asked to help these two klunks--" Here he pointed at Thomas and Teresa, who looked unsure at the attention. "--around the school and whatnot. You two can have a seat, we don't bite. Mostly." The Greenies hesitantly sat down.

"Why don't you introduce us to them?" Chuck asked, voice filled with the curiosity and innocence expected of a freshman.

Minho sighed theatrically. "All right, all right. Gladers, these two Greenies are Thomas and Teresa. Greenies, these are the Gladers. My clique, if you will. This is Alby, Winston, Frypan, Gally, Ben, Chuck, Jeff-" Minho listed all the Gladers one by one. The Gladers in question waved when their name was called.

"Are you guys a gang?" Teresa blurted out after he finished. Thomas winced and looked at her in warning.

Alby chuckled. "Do we look like a gang?"

"I mean. . .you have leather jackets and everything-"

"If you want to know if we are a group of people who share the same interests and goals, then the answer is yes." Alby paused. "If you want to know if we are a group of people who vandalize buildings, smoke cigarettes, terrorize the neighbors, and get into fights with other gangs, well, the answer would also be yes."

"Oh." Teresa's voice was small. 

"Of course, we accept anyone no matter who they are," Minho added, eating someone's fries. "As long as they're not WICKED supporters or affiliated with them."

"You guys must really hate WICKED," Thomas laughed slightly, hands jammed in his pockets. 

"You have no idea," Gally muttered, shuffling his deck of cards.

"It's required of you to hate WICKED if you're going to join the Gladers," Minho said, looking directly into Thomas' eyes. "I'm hoping for your sake and mine's that you detest them. You could fit in with the Gladers."

"What?"

"Minho?" Alby asked, eyebrows quirking up.

"Thomas has a good physique, Alby. He looks like a Runner. We've been running low on Runners ever since the Griever attack last week."

"I'm sorry," Thomas said, "but what are you talking about?"

No one paid attention to him. They were all focused on Minho. 

"Slow down there, slinthead," Gally said, jumping off of the table. He frowned at Minho.

"We can't just accept any Greenie just because they look like a Runner," Gally argued. "We've been doing pretty well for ourselves, and we know nothing about the Greenie. There are too many risks that can happen."

"That's not your decision to make, Gally." The rest of the Gladers watched the argument as if it was a tennis match. "The leader gets to choose who we can accept as a Glader or not, and last time I checked, Alby was the leader, not you."

Gally's face turned red. "Don't think you can just sway Alby into supporting your decision just because you're best friends. We don't need any new Runners, and if Alby is too blind to see that--"

"You're blind if you can't see how Thomas can help us--"

"Am I not allowed to have a decision in this?"  Thomas cut in. Everyone ignored him.

"Stop fighting the two of you," Alby snapped. "Did you two forget that we can't make any decisions without Newt present?"

"What the hell is a Newt?" Thomas asked, frustrated at being ignored.

For some reason, the other Gladers decided to pay attention to Thomas's question now. "Newt is our second-in-command," Minho explained. "Alby is at the top and Newt is the rung just below him. Nothing gets decided unless Newt is present. He's like our. . . he's our glue."

"And he's not even here," Gally muttered. "He's at home resting."

Alby smirked. "Is he? Look up."

Minho glanced up and there was a slender boy with a bright shock of messy blond hair hanging around the lunch ladies. It seemed like he was arguing with them about something. Emotions swirled in Minho's chest at seeing his best friend. He was happy to see the teen, of course, but Newt wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at home resting.

"Newt!" Minho called out. Newt perked up at his name and turned to look at the other Glader's. His hand came up in a lazy wave. "Get your ass over here, you slinthead."

Newt laughed and gave him the finger. 

"That idiot," Alby smiled fondly.

Minho glanced quickly at the Greenies to see their reactions. Teresa was pursing her lips and looked worried. Minho had no idea what was going on inside her head. Thomas on the other hand . . .  Well, he was pretty much staring at Newt, his mouth opened slightly. Minho rolled his eyes and turned back to see Newt limping over to them. His face wasn't as pale as usual, and the bags under his eyes weren't as pronounced. Still, Minho took care not to slap Newt too hard on the back. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Getting an education?" Newt answered, smirking. "It's a school, after all. By the way, Gally, can I borrow fifty bucks?"

"Get a shucking job, Newt," Gally snapped, although everyone knew it was in jest. No one could stay mad at Newt for long. They knew he was going through too much.

Newt laughed, which all the Gladers agreed was the purest sound in the world.

Thomas slipped out of the chair he was sitting in, cursing under his breath. He scrambled back up, his face burning.

Newt's eyes shot to the Greenies. "Who are these slintheads?"

Thomas opened his mouth to speak but he could only stammer out a strangled version of his own name.

Teresa frowned at Thomas. She cleared her throat after realizing he wasn't going to say anything else. "His name is Thomas and I'm Teresa. We just moved to Paradise."

"It's been a while since we had any new Greenies," Newt noted. He held out a hand towards Thomas, who took it with a bright red face. "Welcome to Greenwood, Tommy." Newt smiled warmly at Thomas. 

"T-thank you, Newt-"

Newt suddenly yanked Thomas closer to him until his mouth was right next to his ear. His smiled turned dangerous. "Here's a tip, Greenie. If you want to survive in Paradise, I suggest you don't shake hands with a member of one of the most dangerous groups in this whole damn city. Consider this a warning. Don't call me Newt unless you want me to fuck you up. Only the Gladers call me that. Unless you want to become one of us, you should move along and take you and your girlfriend over to the theater kids. They're very High School Musical-esque, which might be right up your alley." Newt let go of Thomas in an almost bored fashion. "If you do want to become a Glader, then you should talk to Alby about it. You have the physique of a Runner."

"That's our Newty," Frypan chuckled.

"Don't call me that, Fry." Newt stuck his tongue at him, his demeanor changing instantly. "I need to argue with the lunch ladies about how much gravy is too much gravy. Talk to you slintheads later." And just like that, Newt was gone.

Poor Thomas looked scared and turned on all at the same time. Minho pitied the boy. He really did. Newt had that effect on everyone, especially those who were new. 

"Thomas, are you okay?" Teresa asked him worriedly.

"Glader," he said dazedly. "What can I do to become a Glader?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas be like: "Consider me scared and horny."


	2. Do You Trust Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She's not my girlfriend,” Thomas said automatically. “We’re just friends.”  
> “I'm sure you are.”  
> “No, it's true! I'm actually single. Like, _really_ single.”  
>  Newt scrutinized Thomas carefully. He didn't look like he was shucking with him. Thomas’ face was open and honest, and fairly attractive if Newt had to be honest with himself. He looked like he believed every word coming out of his mouth.   
> “Are you?” Thomas asked.  
> “Am I what?”  
> “Single?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching The Maze Runner cast interviews and I can truthfully say that I would die for each and every one of the cast. Also, I've done some (important) researching and found out that Newt first calls Thomas "Tommy" in chapter 11 of the first book. After the Ben incident. You're welcome.

“He totally digs you.”

Newt looked up from his mushed up clay, hands poised to knead it. “Who?”

“The new Greenie, of course!”

“Thomas?”

Minho gave him a look. “What other Greenie could I be talking about?”

Newt shook his head in amusement. Minho was sitting next to him in art class, pounding his small ball of clay as of he wanted to kill it. Art class was one of the few classes the two had together and Minho took advantage of it way too much. He always sat next to Newt and glared at anyone who came to their table. That way they could have private conversations without anyone eavesdropping. Newt didn't know why Minho couldn't just text him. It was a lot easier.

“The Teresa chick looked so disappointed in him, it was funny.” The other boy was so focused on his art that he barely heard him. When Newt didn't answer, Minho poked him in the shoulder with a dirty finger. “Are you listening to me?”

“Who cares about the bloody Greenies?” Newt mumbled to himself. He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. “There are more important things to worry about.”

“Like you, for example?”

Newt’s fingers stilled on his clay. The shape was already forming; a strange, round animal with spider-like legs and spikes protruding from its body. Newt wasn't sure what it was, but he was almost proud of it. It looked terrifying. 

“Newt,” Minho said, and his serious tone shifted the conversation from Thomas to the British boy. “Aren't you supposed to be at home resting?”

“And leave you slintheads alone?” Newt joked, attempting to lighten up the atmosphere. “The Gladers wouldn't be able to get their heads through their shirt holes if I wasn't there.”

“But aren't you feeling-”

“I'm feeling _fine_ ,” Newt interrupted, shooting Minho a warning look. “Don't baby me.”

“I’m not babying you!” Minho argued. “I’m just worried about-”

“Don’t be,” Newt hissed. “I rather be kidnapped by WICKED than let you pity me.”

“I don’t-”

“Minho, please stop talking. I was in such a bloody good mood until you opened your mouth.”

Minho sighed, weary and frustrated all at the same time. Newt was stubborn. Minho was as well, but Minho knew when to throw in the towel and quit. It’s how their friendship survived so long. If Newt wanted to confess all his innermost thoughts and feelings to Minho, then he would. But until then, he had to shut his trap and deal with it.

The two Gladers were silent for a few minutes, each independently working on his clay figure. The art teacher, a tall and lanky man with tired eyes named Mr. Johnson, complimented Newt’s monster, which made Newt flush with pride. Art was always one of his best strengths and something he took pride in. Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow at Minho’s clay figure, which looked like the kind of bowl a third grader would make with his eyes closed. Minho bristled as the teacher walked away.

“I think he hates me,” Minho grumbled. 

Newt laughed, his good mood already returning. He couldn't stay mad at Minho for long. “The only thing he hates is your shucking artistic ability.” 

“That's not fair! I'm Asian, I'm not supposed to be good at art.”

Newt shook his head, smirking. “You’re full of klunk, you know that? You can't blame your ethnicity for your lack of talent.” 

“Says the British one.”

Newt playfully punched Minho on the shoulder. “Shut up. Not another bloody word about this. I rather talk about the Greenie.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Minho rolled his eyes. “You should’ve seen Thomas after the little scene you made. The poor boy looked like he was going to piss himself.”

The slender boy leaned back his head and smirked at the ceiling. “Oh really? I didn’t scare him that badly, did I?”

Minho snorted. “Apparently, you’re didn’t scare him like  _ that _ . I think he likes you. He was really adamant about being a Glader. Pretty much begged Alby to give him a chance. Gally just about had an aneurysm.”

“Have you ever seen a slinthead so bloody crazy?” Newt grinned. “He’s clearly new to Paradise if he doesn’t understand what it means to be a Glader.”

“Pretty crazy,” Minho agreed. “Imagine if you were like that, reckless and ready to join a gang within your first day of moving to a new town.”

Newt shook his head slowly. “I wouldn't make it past the first week.” He pushed away his clay figure and wiped his hands on his jeans. His interest in the clay slowly dissolved and he wondered when class was going to end. In his lap, his hands suddenly felt heavy and thick. Newt clenched them into fists and frowned slightly. This clearly wasn’t the time for this to be happening.

“Neither will Thomas. Although I _am_ glad that you joined the Gladers.”

Newt looked up at the strange tone in Minho’s voice. Minho’s dark eyes stared straight into Newt’s own and he felt something like dread drip down his chest. 

“If you hadn’t joined the Gladers, I wouldn’t have met my best friend,” Minho began. “If you hadn’t joined, the Gladers would have fallen apart. WCKD would have controlled the city, and you wouldn't be sitting here next to me, right now, healthy and alive.” Minho’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If you hadn't joined, you wouldn’t be pretending to take your medicine just so that you could trick the other Gladers into thinking you were all right, would you now?”

Newt’s eyes widened. _Shit._ He knew. 

Minho looked betrayed, and Newt hated the look on his face. He hated the pity swimming in his eyes like tadpoles as if Newt was a baby animal hurt too badly to live. His fingers slowly became numb and his head started to pound. 

“How did you know?” He whispered. 

Minho placed a hand on Newt’s arm, and his muscles tensed. “You might be able to lie to the others, but you can't lie to me.”

A memory buried in Newt’s subconscious made him flinch. He was reminded of a certain day two years ago when the Gladers was still newly formed. Minho, although younger and more reckless, was looking at Newt with the same disappointment in his eyes. Newt’s heart started pounding.  _ No _ , he thought in his head. Softly, but then louder. Angrier.  _ No! _ No, he was _not_ going to do this again.

Newt stood up, his chair falling to the ground. The rest of the class looked up in surprise. 

“Is everything alright, Newton?” Mr. Johnson asked worriedly. 

Newt ignored him. He glared at Minho, who stayed sitting in his seat. 

“Does Alby know about this?” Minho asked quietly. 

“No, and it's going to stay that way,” Newt snapped. 

Minho was quiet for a few seconds. “Your hands are shaking,” he noted.

Newt looked down in surprise to see his fingers spasming as if an electric current was traveling through his veins. _Shit._ He didn't even realize it was happening. If the other Gladers saw him like this, they would force him to go back home. They would tell him to rest, and Alby would have to rely on himself to lead the Gladers. The entire group would fall apart if he wasn't there. Newt curled his fingers until they were fists. He _hated_ this. He hated all of this.

“Newt-” Minho started, but Newt didn't want to listen to his best friend anymore. 

He turned around and stomped out the classroom door, ignoring his teacher’s worried voice and the other students gossiping. Minho didn't follow him. Newt was too pissed to be disappointed. He didn't have a clear idea of where he wanted to go. He just wanted to escape. He wanted to do something reckless. He wanted to fight someone. Newt just wanted the pounding in his head to disappear. He barged into the blessedly empty boy's bathroom and let out a hoarse growl. 

_Stupid Minho,_ he thought, glaring at himself in the mirror. _Stupid Gladers. Stupid bloody disease._

He wasn't really mad at the others, he was just mad at himself.

With shaking fingers, Newt splashed cold water on his face.He took deep breaths. Slowly, he began to calm himself down. Getting agitated would only make things worse. He learned that the hard way. When he thought he was sufficiently calmed down, Newt took one last look in the mirror-- _God, he hated the way he looked more than anything_ \-- and left the bathroom. That's when he heard the voices. 

“Are you sure this is all right?”

“Of course I do, Teresa. You worry too much.”

Newt recognized the new Greenies voices. It was coming from the bend in the hallway, where the crappy water fountain was. The period wasn't over yet, what were they doing out here? 

It wasn't any of his business, of course. He couldn't care less. Newt turned to leave when he heard his name.

“But Newt. Are you sure he’s the _one,_ Tom?”

“Absolutely positive,” Thomas said, and his voice did the weird thing where it quivered as if he was embarrassed. “He’s like this- he's like a sun, Teresa. Something to lean towards. Something to follow. But underneath there's something else, too. It's hard to describe him. But he's definitely the one.”

There was a heavy silence. Newt didn't realize how loud his heart was beating until then, and he was afraid the other two would hear him. What were they talking about? What about him? How was he the sun?

_ He totally digs you _ , Minho teased in his head. He could pretty much see his smirk.  _ I think he likes you. _

Newt grimaced at the thought. That was clearly a lie. Nobody liked him. 

Teresa finally spoke. “The Gladers seem very dangerous, Tom. I don't think this is what your father wanted when he-”

“Dad doesn't care if we jump off a bridge as long as it's for _them_ ,” Thomas argued, the bitterness in his voice surprising Newt. “There's no point using Dad against me because you know the truth.”

The female Greenie sighed. “Just be careful. Please. Your curiosity is going to get you killed one day and I don't want you to get hurt.”

“I won't. I promise.”

_Isn't this heartwarming_ , Newt thought, rolling his eyes. He didn't want to admit that his heart pounded painfully when he realized he didn't have anyone to care for him the way Thomas and Teresa cared for each other. Newt shut his eyes closed and leaned against the wall, feelings he hated swirling inside of him. He needed a smoke. He very badly needed a smoke. 

His fingers shook as he fumbled for the cigarettes he kept in his back pocket. He almost didn't hear the quiet, _“Oh, fuck,”_ in the cacophony of noises in his head. Almost. Newt’s eyes blinked open. Standing in front of him was the new Greenie, his face paling as if he had just seen a ghost. Newt tipped his head at him. “Tommy,” he said in mock respect. He slipped the cigarettes back in his pocket.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked without preamble.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Slim it, Greenie. If you're worried that I overheard your conversation with your bloody girlfriend, I’ll be happy to tell you that I couldn't care less about it.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Thomas said automatically. “We’re just friends.”

“I'm sure you are.”

“No, it's true! I'm actually single. Like, _really_ single.”

Newt scrutinized Thomas carefully. He didn't look like he was shucking with him. Thomas’ face was open and honest, and fairly attractive if Newt had to be honest with himself. He looked like he believed every word coming out of his mouth. 

“Are you?” Thomas asked.

“Am I what?”

“Single?”

Newt laughed in surprise at the question. The laughter shook away the cobwebs in Newt’s chest and he felt almost lighter. It was almost as if the Greenie’s distracting presence was making him forget all the bad thoughts in his head. It was almost funny how it worked. 

_ He likes you. _

_ No, he doesn't. _

“No, I'm not currently in a relationship,” he chuckled. “I haven't quite found the amount of patience needed for a committed relationship. I'm dating my work.”

“Your work?”

“The Gladers,” Newt explained. “I think of it as my job. They're the employees, Alby is the founder, and I'm the manager. It's my job to make sure everything runs smoothly and no one gets hurt.” Newt shrugged. “I also partake in the occasional ruffling of new Gladers.”

“Is that why, earlier this morning, you-”

“I pretty much threatened you in front of the other Gladers?” Newt smirked. “Yeah, it's simple procedure. I have to do that to any Greenie or slinthead in Paradise to let them know who’s boss around here. No hard feelings. And don't worry, Tommy, I'm usually not that mean.”

Thomas played with his fingers. It was almost cute. “Why do you call me Tommy?”

“What? You don't like it?”

“No, I  _ really _ like it. I'm just not used to anyone calling me that.”

Newt shrugged. “Get used to it if you want to be in the Gladers.”

“Ah,” Thomas chuckled nervously. “You heard?”

“Minho wouldn't shut up about it. Alby must be really desperate if he's considering you into the Gladers.”

“I thought you said I had the physique to be a Runner, whatever that is.”

“You do, it's just been a while since we last got a new member. I don't think we remember what it's like to get a new Glader.” Newt scratched his nose. “Maybe it will be good, maybe it won't be. Who bloody knows.”

“But they can't decide whether I can join or not unless you're present, right?”

Newt nodded in confirmation. “If I don't, everything falls apart.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, lost in his own thoughts about the Gladers. He suddenly looked up. “What made you decide to join, anyway? I was hoping my intimidation was enough to scare you off.”

Thomas laughed, although Newt wasn't making a joke. “I was considering it but no. I actually wanted to join because of you.” Thomas’ face lit up like a flame as he realized what he just said. Newt’s own cheeks warmed. “No, I m-mean what you _said_ about the Gladers being close got me to join!” 

_ He totally digs you. _

_ Shut up. _

Thomas took a deep breath as if to get his thoughts collected. “I thought about what you said. I might not understand what you mean exactly, but Paradise City is apparently a dangerous place. I don't want to be on the wrong side of the Gladers, and I would rather join you guys than go against you.” Thomas hesitated. “Also, the way you talk about each other and the group reminds me of a tight-knit family and. . .I never experienced that before. I want to be part of a group. I want to find somewhere to belong.”

The words washed over Newt like a wave. _Somewhere to belong_. Wasn't that the sole reason why Newt woke up every morning? Because he found a place to belong? Somehow, talking to Thomas calmed down his heartbeat. His head no longer pounded. Feeling was slowly coming back to his fingers. But the recklessness was still there, and the strange energy in the air amplified it. Newt almost couldn't control himself. He reached up and pushed some hair out of Thomas’ eyes. It felt soft to the touch. The Greenie looked up at Newt, and both their faces burned. But Newt didn't pull away. And Thomas didn't seem inclined to pull away too.

“Yeah,” Newt murmured. “Seems like a good reason as any.” 

Thomas’ eyes flickered to look at Newt’s lips. “Does that mean I'm in?”

“That's not my decision to make. Alby has to choose who gets in and who gets kicked out, and even then, he chooses whoever the Gladers agree on. You'll have to convince the rest of them if you want to join.”

“Did I convince you?” 

Newt paused. He let his hand fall to the side and regarded Thomas for a few seconds. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“What do you mean-”

Newt curled his fingers around Thomas’s arm, effectively shutting him up. “Let's go someplace quieter. We need to talk.”

Thomas looked surprised. “B-but I probably have to go back to class. Mrs. White might be wondering why I took so long in the bathroom-”

“Mrs. White is in love with Tom Cruise and owns fifty cats,” Newt interrupted. “You'll be fine. And if you get into the Gladers, classes will be the least of your problems.”

“But-”

Newt shot Thomas a dangerous smile. Thomas shut up immediately. 

“If you want truly want to become one of us, you'll have to trust me, Tommy. Do you trust me?”

Thomas didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Flares" by The Script and "Angel With A Shotgun" by The Cab are Newt's theme songs and I will fight you if you say anything different.


End file.
